Faolan ducks his head slightly, as much in embarrassment that he probably does look ridiculous as in response to the fact that he had been surprised and pleased by Lancelot's casual touch of his fingers in his hair, brushing it back like that.

He looks down to the drink in his hand, the new one, and sets aside his vitamin water before he starts to sip at the banana concoction instead. It's not bad -- maybe not something he would have chosen for himself, but it's good. Especially so because Lancelot has made it specially for him.

"I'm. Comfortable," he says, trying to defend himself and the way he's remained huddled on the futon as he has, but there really is no defending it. He could wander over and watch Lancelot from the breakfast nook, he supposes. That would involve moving however...